Everything I Wanted
by In A Tizzy
Summary: Extension of Season 15, What We Do. After the ambulance door closes, John Carter continues his dialogue without the film crew, now moving to the personal memories he has from the time he made the decision to go to Africa in the first place, to present.


_Extension of Season 15, What We Do. After the ambulance door closes, John Carter continues his dialogue without the film crew, now moving to the personal memories he has from the time he made the decision to go to Africa in the first place, to where he currently finds himself, to his plan for the future._

**Everything I Wanted **

Wham! I hear the ambulance door close with a loud thud. Never thought I'd be the one going for a ride. Well, on the gurney, not at my age anyway. Yet here I am, on my way to Northwestern Hospital. My life has come down to this.

I came back to Chicago to take advantage of healthcare options I didn't have in Africa. I also want to be here for the opening of the new hospital wing named in honor of my son. My son was born without ever having the chance to draw even one breath. I never got to know him. Just the same, he remains etched in my brain.

I went to Africa looking to change the world for the better. I'd had it at County. Same drunks and addicts coming in day after day, month after month, year after year; treat 'em and street 'em, patch 'em up and head 'em out. It never changed. It never seemed to make a difference. It was just like my love life, like Abby. I tried to help, I tried to make things better and she just kept doing the things that were going to destroy her. It just got to the point where I couldn't take it anymore. I had to blow.

So I'm in Africa, working in an IDP camp, where the people really appreciate the medical care I give, where it makes a difference in their lives and I'm beginning to feel like myself again. I meet and immediately fall in love with a beautiful Congolese woman named Kem. Six weeks later, she's pregnant with my child. Call me crazy, call me a romantic, whatever, I was ecstatic. It seemed like my life was coming together and I was finally going to have all the things I wanted.

The next 7½ months, hands down, were the happiest of my life. I had it all. I was changing the world for the better with a beautiful woman at my side. She was carrying my child, my son and we were planning this whole life together. I wanted her to have the very best healthcare, I wanted my son born here in America. Why was that so important to me? If I had let her stay in Africa, if I had left well enough alone, we might not have lost our son. And if we hadn't lost him, today we'd still be together and happy in the Congo. I wouldn't have gone to Darfur. I wouldn't have gotten sick. I wouldn't be in this ambulance, on a gurney, on my way to a hospital for a kidney transplant.

But I insisted that she come to America, have the baby here. She didn't really want to be here, but she came, for me. She came because she loved me and I loved showing her around Chicago. Sharing my childhood passions with her, introducing her to my friends, my family, and she loved doing all that, for me. I still had it all.

Then one night, it all went to hell. Our baby squirmed so much that he twisted his umbilical cord to the point that he died in utero. To add to the heartache, Kem had to go through labor knowing the baby would be born dead. She's never been able to recover from that. She doesn't say it, but I know she blames me for it.

Afterward, she didn't want to look at me, be around me. She didn't want to talk with me, didn't want me to touch her. Hell, she didn't even want to be on the same continent with me. She went back to the Congo. I tried to accept that our relationship and everything I thought we were going to have, was just not meant to be. I tried to ignore what I was feeling, stayed on at County, even tried getting involved with someone new. I wasn't fooling anyone, not even myself. I was miserable without her. I needed her, I had to have her.

Then one day she left a message for me. Her mother was sick, she was going to Paris. It was a signal, right? A sign she wanted me back. She needed me to comfort her in her need. It was just what I was waiting for. The time was right. I flew to Paris to be with her, only to find it wasn't the signal I thought it was. She was actually surprised to see me. I tried making the case for us anyway. I was still going to take that shot and she shot me down, really discouraged me.

Her mom was the one who convinced me it was worth the effort to keep trying. I showed up at her door in the pouring rain determined to get her back. I wasn't taking no for an answer. She invited me in. Gave me a bathrobe to change into while my clothes dried, made coffee and we talked. We talked well into the night. I got through to her. We spent the night together, made love. I thought it was all going to be fine.

We got married two weeks later. We were going to have a big, formal wedding, but I didn't want to wait, so we had a small ceremony, actually in her mother's hospital room so her mom could be there for it. It was everything I wanted it to be. I was so happy to have her as my wife, to be with her again, living with her again. I was sure everything was going to be okay. I went to the Congo to start at her clinic. She was going to get her mom settled at home and then come back to the Congo too. We were going to work side by side at her clinic. Life was going to be everything I wanted it to be.

Sure didn't turn out that way though. One reason after another delayed her coming back to the Congo, kept her away from her clinic. It wasn't like her. Her clinic was her crusade, her life's work. For her to stay away, I still don't understand. I know her mom's health is a concern, but she's been in remission for most of the last 3 years. Still Kem hasn't left Paris in that time. She just stays at her mother's side.

Anyway, we were married about 9 months when Kem calls me and says she's not coming to the Congo, she's staying in Paris. WTF, right? Her beloved clinic and she hasn't spent a day there since we got married. A couple of days later, Debbie, the Red Cross worker, told me about an IDP camp, this one is in Darfur. She has a doctor friend there that needs help. I call Kem to tell her I was thinking about going. Does she try to stop me? No! It's the frickin' Sudan, the most violent, most dangerous place on Earth and all she tells me is to be careful.

So I go with Debbie to Darfur. As bad as things are in the Congo, it was hard to believe they could get much worse. You go to Darfur, you go to the pit of hell. The place suited my emotional state. The despair, the hopelessness of the people, the bleakness of everyday life mirrored my own life. In some weird way it felt like I belonged there. So I stay, and the longer I stay, the more infrequent the calls between Kem and me.

I keep working at helping these people. I treat all kinds of diseases you don't see here. I treat amputations and mutilations, rapes, gunshot and knife wounds. The cruelty that one group of people can inflict on another, you can't imagine unless you're there. As much damage as the Janjaweed can inflict, we treat.

So one day they encircle the camp. Nobody gets in. Nobody gets out. No medical supplies. No food. No water. No help from the government. Nothing. We're basically left to rot. You start to get desperate. You know better, but you have no choice. You gotta do what you gotta do. The only water in the camp was the community pond. It was the only water to wash in, to pis in, to drink, whatever you needed water for, it's all you had to use. I knew it was contaminated, but you can't live long without water. Survival instinct kicks in and you drink it.

So yeah, there I was with a parasite infection. It took my ass out. I thought I was gonna die right there. It got so bad, several of the local people along with the med staff risked their own lives to get me out of there. I ended up in a hospital in Nairobi for a month. I asked for Kem, they called her. She left a message for me. Her mother was sick again, she needed to stay with her, she couldn't come, said she hoped I felt better soon.

I don't know what they told her about my condition, but it hurt that she didn't come. She didn't even call to talk directly to me, just left the message. The doctors at the Nairobi hospital tell me I need dialysis until I can get a new kidney. I need more sophisticated medical care than they can provide. I try calling Kem, see if she will welcome me in Paris. She tells me her mother is very ill and she needs to focus on her mother, so no, I'm not welcome in Paris. I don't even bother telling her how serious my condition is.

I go to the only other place I know, back to Chicago. It wasn't an easy place for me to go. I've got some painful memories here. One of the first things I did, was go to where we scattered my son's ashes and where Kem told me goodbye. It's bitter cold out. The frigid wind stings my face. I just sit there and cry for all that I've lost and will never get back. I go to the new hospital wing. I see the plaque that dedicates the wing to my son, my son who was stillborn at this hospital. While it doesn't ease my sense of loss, it's comforting to know that so many will be helped here in this place.

I show up back at County. There's still people that recognize me. They're happy to see me and they ask about Kem. I have to keep myself together and just be vague. I can't face letting people know that my life's become the stuff Greek tragedies are made of. I try and wear this happy face, like things aren't as wrong as they are. I try to pretend my life isn't as out of my control as it is.

I think they bought it up until now. When I sank in the trauma room, my condition became common knowledge. Everyone in the ER is aware of how serious it is. They had to bump me up to first priority on the transplant list. It's generally when people want and need their family and loved ones around. They asked if there was anyone they could call and all I could do was shake my head no. I could see it in their eyes. The pity they had for me, knowing I was going to have to beat this on my own. They know survival rates go down when you have no one to live for. They know recovery is harder when you don't have love and support seeing you through.

What they don't know, is that I still believe that my future doesn't have to be what it appears to be. I can change it. It's all in the attitude. The bastards aren't gonna get me down. I'm going to make it. I'm going to recover, because after all, I've still got a world to change.


End file.
